California International Marathon 2012

I've run a lot of miles in the last 3 years. One thing I'm consistently amazed about this sport, is one's ability to learn from every run.  I've raced 7 marathons and another 8 ultra-marathons in the last 3 years. I've run further than 26.2 miles 17 times this year alone, in various training runs and races. You would think, with that amount of training at the distance, I would be fairly proficient at it. You would, of course, be wrong about that.

I certainly do not discount the distance, in fact I have a huge amount of respect for any marathon or marathoner, but let's be honest here. I've run, twice now, 100 miles. Both of those races were over entire mountain ranges, at altitude and in conditions that most would not find favorable. I can run 26 miles, and within an hour of finishing, be ready for any challenge life can throw at me, be it physical or mental as long as I pace myself. I've even joked to friends that I could finish a marathon hungover or gasp....still drunk. I may or may not have partied a little too hard for this years Rockin River Marathon in Reno, the result of which spawned my idea to run to the event from my house and over the spine of Peavine mountain, adding an extra 8 miles to the endeavor.

Yet with all this experience, I had never actually trained for, and raced, a marathon. I've always had "bigger" for lack of a better word, goals for each of my marathons. I treated all of them except my virgin one in 2004, like training runs. No taper, no specificity of training, just go out there and do it.

Upon leaning that the "Doc", who was 1/4 of my outstanding crew for Western States was running CIM, and looking for her Boston Qualifying time of 3:35, I made it a point to get my rear in gear and race. I trained well for CIM this year. I had a lot of speed training and plenty of 20+ milers to get myself into good shape.

The Doc, my lovely wife to be, and I set out for Sacramento last Saturday hoping mother nature would grant us 3.5 hours of great weather. My goal was to help get the Doc her BQ, and to somehow repay the massive debt I felt I owed for her giving up 30+ hours of her life so I could accomplish a dream at Western States. We were warned numerous times that things would not be as we hoped. Before we hit I-80 a massive killer tumble weed nearly wrecked us, then just past Gold Ranch a ladder was on the freeway and seconds later a huge truck from which the ladder fell, was off to the side. The driver was standing in the middle of the slow lane screwing with his vehicle. Once we got to Sacramento the adventure to get to the convention center started with a torrential rain storm the likes only seen from near the equator. It was at that point I realized this would not be the typical marathon experience. This would be my third CIM. I was trained properly and racing for the first time, of course the weather was going to be sloppy, messy and difficult! Those who know me well, will undoubtedly understand this next statement.

I love bad weather! My days spent in a downhill suit alpine skiing prepared me for anything mother nature can throw at me. Trust me on this one, being in a 100% spandex suit and sitting on a chairlift in below freezing temps with no other clothing to speak of for half an hour, just plain sucks. Add to that the fact you just expended the most amount of energy you can in 2.5 minutes, you are in a snow storm, and your ass is sticking to the chair, you tend to toughen up pretty quickly.

So upon the news that CIM would be wet and windy I was, of course, overjoyed. I'm rarely one to scoff at things getting more difficult, I relish in the enjoyment of beating the circumstances as much as I do the accomplishment of the goal. Plus, I ran from Squaw Valley to Robinson Flat in far worse weather (I thought) and had a blast, there was no way measly Sacramento weather was going to derail me.

We got to the hotel and found out that we got a free VIP tent at the start for purchasing the room. We made a quick video for our friend who's birthday party we were missing, watched the movie TED and turned the lights off around 10. As has been my unfortunate routine nearly everyday for almost 6 months now I slept very little. Maybe 2 solid hours of sleep, and a lot of hamster power turning the wheels attempting to get back to sleep before the alarm went off at 4:30 AM. To say the least, I've been having horrendous sleeping issues since July. It is what it is and my refusal to take any kind of medication, or reduce the stress of my life means I just have to deal with it as best I can. Fortunately I've never been one that needs a lot of sleep so most of the time it is a non issue. I generally just chalk it up to yet another circumstance to overcome, it may be a fact but it is never an excuse. I hate that word and I cringe anytime I hear someone use it.

The alarm went off and I got dressed, had my pre-race bagel and cream cheese and we made our way to the bus that would take us to the start. Upon arrival we made our way to the VIP tent which was fantastic, we then learned we had our own potties! It was fabulous. We had an hour to kill and I started probing the Doc to see where her head was at. The tent was rocking back and fourth, winds were at least 35mph + and it was raining quite hard. We talked about the possibility of not making the goal, I tried to inject enthusiasm for the conditions into the conversation. The weather was in reality, much worse than what I experienced at Western States and rivaled all but my worst training days in the snow over the years. Any person who started this race has earned my respect, the conditions were brutal.

CIM 2012, a fantastic 26.2 mile adventure!

We made our way out to the start and I could not contain my enjoyment. I was bouncing around like a little kid going to the park for the first time. The gun went off and I took off. It was wet and messy for most of the race. I ditched my jacket and poncho around mile 2 just after I lost sight of the Doc, and ran the rest of the race in a shirt and shorts with arm sleeves. I passed the half marathon mark in a personal best time. I was hauling ass! Twice I saw my friends Scott and Michelle on the side of the road cheering all the Reno runners and each time it was a massive boost in the speed department. They were braving the weather to cheer me on, certainly I could go a bit faster.

I had caught myself numerous times running near the middle of the road by the reflectors that separate lanes. I kept telling myself not to go there because of the slight chance I might hit one, in that perfect little spot on my left foot that has derailed me 3 times now. Unfortunately I kept ending up right back there because it was the one place there was little to no water. Cars do not travel on that part of the road very often so there are no indentations from the weight of them, unlike a foot to either side of that line. I passed mile 17 and realized if I ran the next 8 miles at a 10 minute pace I was going to finish the marathon in a personal best, and minute under my goal time.

It was at this point I got cocky, I had this in the bag. 9 miles to go nothing was going to stop me. No reason to worry about the road or the conditions at this point, I mean, what could happen? Yep I had that exact thought, I figured I'd run far too many miles to need to worry about anything at this point.

A couple minutes later I found myself once again running near the little reflectors on the road in a pack of 5. You might be able to guess by now what happened, I stepped on one of the square road reflectors and despite the ample cushioning of my Hoka One One shoes I popped that freaking toe out of the socket once again. I did the same thing back in February while in Physical Therapy for my Plantar Faciitis. That time, my therapist did it trying to stretch the toe, this time an idiotic cocky me, did it to myself. Instantly I yelled out Mother F&^%*R! The pack of 5 turned their heads as I made my way to the side of the road, I apologized as they ran away.

I knew then my day of racing was over and the question was now what to do about the toe. I've had this happen enough times (3 in the last 14 months) that I knew it's a pain tolerance thing. I could finish without damaging anything but it was going to hurt, each step would push the toe in an uncomfortable direction. The only thing that can be done is to pull it straight out and pop it back into place, which once done leaves me unable to run for quite a few days. Nearly every step I take on a run I am mindful of this possibility and up until this last mile I've paid great attention to where I foot strike. My damn mentality caused me to make the decision that nothing could happen on the road and boy was I wrong about that. I kept jogging for a bit and pulled over to the side of the road at about 18.5 miles to walk. Just then my buddy whom I will be pacing at AR 50 next year came up and patted me on the back.

"Are you injured or are you hurting" he asked then motioned me to get back in the game. I thought about this for a second and said some kind of jibberish "um not sure uh....ok I'll keep up". I started running again just under 9 minute pace like he was. I had this almost epic surge of adrenalin and for about 3 minutes I thought there was no reason I could not handle the pain for 7 more miles. However, the body has a strange way of coping with pain. It finds, most of the time without your knowing, the least possible path of resistance. I was favoring the foot by using my other leg to push off of more so than normal. This, combined with my fast start and already tired state, and now loss of the adrenalin started the cramping in my good leg. I chose to slow down and let my friend go. I said I was sorry but I had to slow down and wished him well. I'm pretty sure he got himself a PR in all that slop, and he looked great when I saw him. I was psyched at how well he was running.

I continued on jogging and walking at random intervals as best I could and just enjoyed the last 7 miles of the course. The rain stopped about 3 miles from the finish, the sun came out and the day turned beautiful. I never saw the Doc after mile 2, given the conditions she had an excellent run. Not a BQ, but not many people were running their best out there on that day. I can say for certain in the coming years she will take great joy in telling friends and family about her adventure at CIM 2012, as will most everyone who raced that day.

I finished in 4 hours and 10 minutes, and despite all the issues and weather, it was my favorite marathon I've ever run. I've grown a lot in the last 3 years, I did not accomplish my goal, but one thing all these foot issues has taught me is that it is a blessing to be able to run. Any day I run, even a little bit, is a good day no matter how bad things might get. I've spent roughly 16 months out of the last 36 wanting to run and not being able for various reasons. 3 years ago I would have considered the day a failure, a goal not met, months of training worthless and I would have beat myself up for weeks or months. Those last 7 miles hurt, I was limping pretty bad by the time I got to the finish. However, the slower pace allowed me to take in the moment, I saw so many people living their dream and accomplishing their goals much like I did at Western States this year. Those last 7 miles reminded me that goals are great, they focus you, but at the same time they can eliminate your ability to recognize the greatness that is happening around you every minute of the day. This day I was fortunate to have been out there in epic weather watching so many people push their limits.

In the end I'm going to look back on this day with great satisfaction, it was not my fastest race nor the furthest. I did not meet my goals. I experienced a lot of joy, some pain and a lot of rain and wind. The real gem though, is the knowledge that I really have turned the corner mentally and I'm on the right track. I'm back to being able to find the good in almost anything, somewhere in my twenties I lost that trait. I've learned from my time on my feet and I look forward to getting schooled once again, because, I'm quite certain, there will be another race or training run that goes wrong and I'll grow from it as well. It has been a week since CIM and today I went for my first run since. I popped my toe back into place shortly after the finish and other than being a little sore still, it is feeling fine and I think it is ready for some pounding.

The Western States lottery was yesterday. It seems crazy that just a year ago I was on the verge of completing a goal that stood for 16 years. I sit here now today eager for the next one. I did not make it into the race this year but I will be a part of it come this June. For now my main goal for next year is to do all that I can to give my wife to be, the wedding she wants and deserves. I have a pretty crazy solo run I've been thinking about for 10 years that if everything falls just right I will attempt in August. For now though, I just look forward to my next run and all that I'll learn from it.

Green Gate to Auburn

It was deep into the night when Goldie started talking about this memorial. It was built for a runner who was killed by a mountain lion on the trail some years ago. I'd heard about it but never seen it. We both wanted to show our respect to a fallen comrade. Of course, as was the case the entire night, neither of us knew exactly where we were, or where what we were looking for, was. We rounded a bend and saw some lights. I realized we had almost reached ALT. We had left Green Gate about an hour and a half earlier. I was excited to get to some food and see if I could put anything down.

Auburn Lake Trails ALT (85.2 miles) 3:56am
Per our routine Goldie slowed down and told me to go ahead. The aid station was only a couple hundred yards around the bend, so I scampered as fast as I could to it. We had gained another 10 minutes on my splits and were now up 1:52. Upon entering I was greeted by a medic who escorted me to the scale. Like clockwork I was still hovering right around 189. I had trouble standing still on the scale because my feet hurt. I got off the scale and had this conversation with the medic.

Medic:"are you feeling OK".
Me: Jokingly  "you'll need to talk to my slave driving pacer..she's kicking my ass with all this running" as I rocked back and forth and side to side.
Medic: "You need to sit down" he exclaimed.
Me: "No thanks, I need to get out of here no time to waste"
Medic: "No really, you are hypoglycemic, I need you to sit down"
Me: "Hypo what.....? I'm fine, just need to get some food."
Medic: "Sit down and I'll get you some"
Me: "No! I'm fine, why do you think I am not?"
Medic: "You cant even stand up on your feet, please sit down."
Me "No, talk to my pacer, I'm doing fine, I just have some blisters that hurt".....I left him and went to the food table.

At that point Goldie showed up and I overheard her and the medic talking. Something about he's fine he just has bad blisters and is having trouble standing still. A couple of seconds later they both came over to me and I started to get very defensive. Goldie asked me how I was doing and I once again said fine. I looked at the medic and he did something that is generally not wise if you want me to stay calm. Tell me I can't do something.

Medic: "Look you won't make it 20 feet out of this aid station in the state you are in"
Me: Then how the (might have been an bad word thrown in here) did I just run 30 miles on these feet?
Medic: I'll need to see your feet then.

I looked at Goldie and said "I'm done, I can not make this decision, what do I do?" I'm not even sure Goldie had a chance to say anything before I realized I could do nothing. He was not going to let me leave so I just had to give in and sit down. He grabbed a chair and took off my left shoe, took my sock off and nodded.

Medic "Yep you got some blisters there"
Me: Holding back swear words and not nice things...."yep"
Medic: "Let me redress this."
Me: "No.....ahhh whatever."

I'd finally given in to the chair and the medic. He redressed the wounds (poorly I might add) that the awesome foot doc had given me at Michigan Bluff and put the shoe back on. Meanwhile Goldie had grabbed some fruit and broth for me to sip. On the bright side, those went down just fine, my stomach was back. Then the medic grabbed my other foot and did the same. Once he finished, they got me back on my feet and I was shivering like you could not believe. Goldie and the medic escorted me over to the bonfire and wrapped me up with one of those silver emergency blankets.

You could not imagine what was going through my head. I'm sitting there shivering with 15 miles to go. It's a good thing I was shivering because I was shaking my head because I was so mad. I have dreamed of this race for half my life, and I'm basically sitting around a campfire like a third grader listening to campfire stories. This was not the way I had imagined things. The medic kept saying "you have a ton of time just rest a bit" or something close to that. I finally could not take it anymore and stood up and said "lets do this".

Before I move on from this, I need to make it clear that the medic did everything right. He was wise to question me. I do not doubt for a minute that runners will attempt to deceive them so they can leave and in doing so put themselves at a health risk (I know I would). The race is then at risk, the medic himself is also at risk, should something actually go wrong. He and I both could have handled things much better, heck had I even known at that point what hypoglycemic meant (low sugar) I could have eaten a ton of fruit to shut him up. This was confusion by circumstance, thinking back on it afterwards, it just adds to the flavor of the experience. I would be wise to remember this the next time I have a conflict with a volunteer at a race.

That being said, I do not know how long I was there but it felt like 20-30 minutes. It may have been 5 or 15 really, but the fact I lost nearly 20 minutes on my next split, leads me to believe it was a while. The grand total of sitting on my rear end because of the blisters at Michigan Bluff and ALT was easily over an hour.

Goldie and I set out down the hill leading to the the next aid station at Browns Bar. I had a full head of angry steam built up. My feet now hurt again because of the redressing, as well as having been off them for so long. Normally when I am really mad I have a rush of adrenaline that I just can not handle. This time it was much different. I went from coherent and an adult, to totally discombobulated and a young child at that aid station. The frustration of the aid station zapped all my strength and energy. The entire race I had strategically run well, now I had no ability to think. I could not make a decision, and could barely answer questions when Goldie asked them. Our conversations consisted of 1 to 4 word answers from me. This was now the time Goldie was going to earn her keep. I would need her from here on out to get me through to the finish. I was in no shape to do it myself, at this point.

I do not remember much about this section other than it being green and full of trees. We kept looking for the monument but did not see it. What I do remember is for the first time since Michigan Bluff someone passed me, he was being paced by a local runner from Reno. This older gentleman known for running with a feather in his cap is a fantastic runner, something of a legend in Reno, and he really had his runner moving along. I could not keep up. We passed them about a mile later and I had brief thought of being a stud for having run them down, only to realize they must have just pulled off to go to the bathroom. They promtly passed me a minute after I had passed them, then they were gone and Goldie and I were alone again.

Browns Bar (89.9 miles) 5:28am
Finally after about an hour we started to hear the Browns Bar aid station. Like many of the aid stations the volunteers here were up all night. They are known for playing loud rock music and  having a couple of drinks while they work. Once again we pulled into the aid station with me in front and Goldie meeting me a minute or two later. I was now only up 1:37 on my splits, I had lost 15 minutes over those 4 miles. I actually think we ran faster than we had been so I would say 20 minutes is about right, all from the last aid station. I was able to get some broth and some cookies down and refilled my pack. I was starting to have a really hard time getting moving at this point.

We reached the road by the river that leads to the quarry and it started to get light outside. Goldie could sense my mental demise and she actually started asking me if I wanted to stop and walk. My response would always be the same. "Yes please, could we please?", I had officially become a child mentally. I finally, after one of the many stops apologized to Goldie. "I'm so sorry for how slow we are going, I just feel horrible" I said. I figured what would come out of her mouth would be something like, "that's OK, just keep chugging along". However, that is not what she said.

Goldie looked back at me almost angrily and said. "You do NOT feel horrible, you are still running. You are doing great, now take a gel and lets go!" Tough love, but ohhhhh so correct. She was right, I really did not feel any worse than say the last 2-3 hours, I just was stuck thinking about it, every step I took. Probably because I was low on energy, hence her telling me to take a gel. Once again, the experience she had in her head was truly magnificent. It's crazy how after that long expending energy time starts to blend together. Minutes can feel like hours, hours can feel like seconds and seconds can also feel like forever. I think it is highly mood based. It is so easy to get caught up on what is around you and forget about the things it takes for you to keep going. I hope someday I can pass along the knowledge I gained from this experience to someone else, and also one day, repay Goldie by running her into the ground!

This road by the river sucks, it winds with the river and goes up and down. Nothing serious just enough to frustrate at 88 miles on your feet. We finally got to the point where you get back on to some single track and Goldie made her only mistake of the entire race. We slowed to a halt and she pointed up to the top of the mountain. She said "Brandon, your crew is right there waiting for you, we are almost there"

My Crew at Hwy 49 Aid Station about 5 in the morning.

I looked at Goldie with what I would imagine was a most gruesome face. Like someone who just watched their dog get run over by a car in the street right in front of them. I said " That does not make me feel any better". What Goldie did not know was I am a data freak and I knew exactly how far and how far UP my crew was. 3 miles and 1500 feet of climbing. When she pointed to the spot, my initial thought was "great that's 3 miles, then I have another 7 to the finish.10 freaking miles is 1/10 of the race I still have a whole tenth of the race to go". I saw Goldie's face go from happy to "Oh crap what did I just do" in a split second. I felt so bad, but I could not get the words out to apologize. I knew she was just trying to get me fired up.

Fortunately I still had climbing legs and we pushed the pace up that hill to my crew. All told, of my 3 training partners who all finished well ahead of me I climbed that section the fastest. Of course the fact I did not run the first 88 miles as fast surely is the reason but I was actually moving pretty quick. I do not remember a single thing about the climb until we got to the chain link fence separating us from the quarry. You could hear the cars from the road and Goldie yelled out "we are here Brandon".

This was the point I was done with running.

We had finally hit the point where I no longer wanted to run, I had assumed I was far enough in front of the cutoff's that I could walk it in. This is what I love most about 100 mile races, they break you mentally and physically. I've learned through the years that I like to push my limits and see where I break. Most people have never seen me just give up, it is a very rare event. Both hundreds I've run though,  I reached that point. The point where I said enough is enough, I quit. This day at Western States I made it 93.4 miles before I gave up, I know the exact place I made the decision I did not want to run anymore. About 40 feet before we crossed Hwy 49 to get to the aid station. I saw my crew and all I wanted to do was sit with them. I wanted Queen Doom to hold me and tell me that everything was alright. I wanted the race to be over, the pain to stop, but mostly I wanted someone to supply me with a reason to make stopping OK.

Hwy 49 Aid Station (93.5 miles) 6:33am

Get this pack off of me, get me weighed and let me sit down!

We entered the aid station and had gained back 28 minutes on my splits giving us a cool buffer of 2 hours and 5 minutes on them. It was morning now and my crew looked great. I, however, felt like someone hit me with a truck and kept backing up and pulling forward over me with every step. I got on the scales and hit my mark then turned around and walked over to Queen Doom. The emotions of the night, the fact I was just over 6 miles from the finish and the sight of my friends who were crewing me was too much to handle. I wanted to continue on, but by walking not running. I just did not see the point. I had made a promise to my crew that at this aid station I would put on a TuTu in thanks for their efforts through the day and night. I went over to them and they put it on the ground and asked me to step into it.

Not my happy face.

I just looked at them and said "no, I cant lift my feet that high you have to put it on over my head".  I now had entered into the wussy stage of my run. I'm standing there looking at them just hoping someone says that I look so bad I should stop. Of course no one does. More words of wisdom come flying out of Goldie's mouth. "Take your pack off you are going light the rest of the way. Take this hand bottle. I want you to drain that by the time we get to the next aid station. I need you to drink Brandon".

Jesus, can anyone just take some pity on me? Do any of you know how bad I feel right now, I kept thinking to myself. Of course they knew, but like a great crew and pacer they also knew how much this meant to me and that I just was not thinking clearly. I was in no health danger I just felt bad, exhausted, like everyone does at this point. That is what having a great pacer and crew is all about, they keep you going even when you do not want to, or, do not think you can. At that moment I did not think it possible for me to take another running step.

With TuTu and hand bottle, I left for the steep incline out of the aid station. All I could hear was my crew cheering for me. "You are going to finish Brandon", one of them yelled. I heard it, I felt it, I realized at that moment, yes I was going to finish and complete my dream. Instantly my mood went from sour to not so sour. I did a little booty shake with the TuTu. Later I was told by my crew they were very worried about me the entire time I was at that aid station until that moment, then they all turned around an knew I was OK. I was coming back from the dead so to speak.

Heading out of the aid station.

You have to climb up this steep but short hill leaving Hwy 49. We crested the top to the beautiful meadow and saw another runner. All through the night we had been literally right in between two packs of runners one on each side of us. We were faster than the trailing pack and not quite as fast as the leading one. We really did not see anyone on the trail save for just a few. Seeing a runner got me a little bit jazzed and we started jogging. Mood shifts happen often and quickly in these races if you could not tell all ready. We passed the runner and his pacer, said "good job" and moved on. Goldie was now pushing the pace more than I could handle and I was getting irritated. Not at her, just at the fact I could not keep up. She asked if I wanted to stop and walk and in a very snarky way I said "you do know what the answer is, if you ask me that........don't you?" Fortunately she did not drop me right there.

A couple minutes later the second runner to pass me since Michigan Bluff, blew right past me. This lady was running so hard and fast and I could not fathom how she was doing it. Goldie looked at me and knew, there was no way I could muster that kind of effort at that point. We let her go and I never saw her again. Somehow Goldie kept me moving swiftly. I did not want to run, heck I did not want to even walk fast, but whatever methods she used she kept me going at a pretty fast pace. We walked often on this stretch, but really only for a couple of steps then she would start an ultra jog. We rinsed and repeated this so many times and it worked, but I did not like much of this stretch.

We finally hit No Hands Bridge and I filled my bottle, at least I was still listening to Goldie. She told me to drain it and I did. I knew now, with only 3.4 miles to go, exactly what I was in for. A tough climb to the next aid station then we run through Auburn on the street. We got to the base of the climb and Goldie told me to stay strong. I said something like, "you just make sure to tell me what I need to do and I'll do it." I had not yet gotten all my mojo back but I could feel it coming on. I knew once we crested that hill things would be alright.

We got within a couple hundred feet of Robie Point, the last aid station just 1.3 miles away. I chose not to stop in favor of getting things over with. Goldie stopped to talk to one of the workers then ran up to me. She was so excited and said "Brandon, it's 8:05".

I looked at her and said "what does that mean?" I was so out of it mentally, I could not figure out what time that was in the race. 27 hours was the actual race time, and Goldie just simply said "you are going to finish fast!" She meant, fast, as in way faster than my goal time, what I heard, was get going you need to finish fast. Still, like a child listening to their parent, I took off in a jog up the hill. She said something like "OK we can run if you want", but all I heard was RUN!

I saw two of my crew members near the top of the hill, the Doc and Half Iron Woman had jogged down to meet me. I was so happy to have glasses on at this point and to be sweating profusely from the face. No one could tell I had tears falling from my eyes. Near the top of the hill there are flags hanging from a line way above our heads. Goldie had told me about this earlier and so I ran under the American flag kissed my hand and blew it up to the flag. Just like I did all day, I paid homage to the course one last time.

Goldie and my two crew members were trailing me by a couple of feet. I remember Goldie saying something like "When I tell you too, run hard, Brandon". Like all night I did exactly what she said, and like most of the last hours I misinterpreted what she meant. I still thought I was close to the cut offs, I thought she was telling me to run for fear of things being too close. When Goldie yelled "RUN BRANDON" I took off like bull charging a matador. We were running down the street, I was breathing harder than at any point in the race, we made the final two turns and entered the track at Placer High School. I saw Scotch Man to the side of the track but I did not stop for him. I could not hear anything, I had tunnel vision. All I knew was I had to get to that line as quick as possible. I ended up dropping my crew on the track! I rounded the last turn on the track and saw the timing board.

Placer High School Track, Auburn CA (100.2 Miles) 8:19:15am
What the hell? I thought to myself, that is not right they must have started it late. 27 hours 19 minutes 0 seconds the clock read as I ran towards it. I'm in complete disbelief, there is no way with the day I had I was nearly 3 hours ahead of the 30 hour cutoff. I ran through the finish in 27:19:15 (thank you cool weather!).

I did my happy dance that I had been waiting so long to do on that track.  My first coach AJW, was there to give me my medal. Just like he did at my first 50 mile race.

Queen Doom was there to greet me in the medic tent as they took some vitals. I hugged her. I said something I have been waiting to say for so long. "I'm so proud of myself, we did it baby. We actually got me to the finish line, can you believe it?" That hug lasted a century and it's my most happy moment of the entire event. This singular event had morphed from a solo mission, to a team of people helping me achieve something I wanted so badly, the chief driving force of that group was Queen Doom.

The next 15 minutes were the most perfect of my life. My entire crew was there waiting for me, many people from Reno Running and Fitness were there cheering me on and to my surprise a lot of my burning man friends had made the trip down so early in the morning to share in my accomplishment.

The Deyglofarians!

I said some hello's and got some hugs, took pictures and such. Then right there just off to the side of the finish area I sat down (which hurt like hell) and took off my shoes. My feet were an absolute mess, but I did not care. My rear end hurt like nothing I have ever felt (and would for weeks), my legs were sore, but all I could do was sit there and bask in the glory of accomplishing my goal. I'd have gladly taken 10 times the pain for that moment. Knowing all the issues I'd overcome in the three years of running, it was all worth it for that moment of greatness. This was the most epic thing I'd ever done. I'd stayed true to myself, I battled everything life threw at me and I finally had come out the other side successful. I would imagine each and every runner felt like I did. I've learned so much from this experience and I have so many to thank (that will have to be a post on it's own).

I never intended running to become a permanent fixture in my life. I started this with the goal of finishing States and moving on. I learned, that I really love to run, and I love to run far. I'm never going to be an elite athlete at this sport, the best I can hope to achieve is constantly challenging myself. I now know, I do not need to be the best out there to be proud, I just need to be the best that I can be. I had all these epiphanies while on that 27 hour run. They may seem small to you, but they are my own mountains to conquer. Devil's Thumb and the other climbs were not the only hurdles I needed to get over this day. It's really true what they say, in a 100 mile foot race you will go through a lifetime of emotions. I'll also add, if you are fortunate enough to get to the finish you will be a better person than when you started.

Sitting at that finish on the grass with so many friends around me I finally figured something out. I knew right then and there, I needed to change. I no longer could hold onto the regrets I'd had for so many years. I needed to cut myself some slack. Had I not gone through those things, I would not be here today. Today I loved exactly where I was, who I was, and everyone who was around me.

I am going to do some outrageous things in running for the rest of my life. I intend on pushing myself beyond my current limits to see what happens. I have plans already for my next run and while it will not live up to this one (I doubt any run ever will), it will be special in it's own right. I feel like there is a whole new world of possibilities that I am capable of achieving, and that's a hell of a place to be 1/3 of the way through my life.

I will be back someday and I will get that Silver 24 hour "100 miles in 1 day" buckle! But for now....this one looks damn good!

The bronze 100 mile buckle! 

Robinson to Swinging Bridge

Robinson Flat (30 miles) 12:36 pm

Do I really lie to this guy? A stupid thought since my weight was written on the band around my wrist, but one I considered for a second. You can not imagine the ridiculous thoughts you have when running all day. I hung my head low, like my dog when he gets caught doing something naughty. "189.4" I said, hoping he would think I said 199.4. "A little heavy, but everyone is, we think it's the rain. You are good to go, just watch yourself" he said.

Instantly a rush of relief flowed through my veins, but at the same time, I really needed to figure out if it was the rain or if I’d been taking in more salt than needed. Perhaps it was the cocktail weenies from Red Star Ridge mixed with three S! Caps (electrolyte pills) I'd taken already. Perhaps all my gear was just waterlogged, either way I had about 12 miles to figure it out.

My crew from left to right: Queen Doom, Scotch Man, Half Iron Woman and the Doc.

I left the weigh station and practically sprinted the couple hundred yards to where my crew was. Talk about a boost of adrenaline! I looked at my crew and said, "I'm having a great time! I just ran through rain, snow, hail, huge winds and I feel great! I'm doing awesome!" My crew along with all the other crews and spectators within earshot just stood there silently looking at me. I later found out, most people that were coming in were having a tough day with the conditions on the course. I was doing great, although I did start to have a bit of a hot spot on my left foot. Hot spots are the precursor to a blister; you may or may not be able to stop it at that point. I get blisters when I run more than about 45 miles. At the TRT100 in 2011 I ended up with 7 rather large blisters that I had to run on from mile 62 to the finish. I hoped today I could curtail any blisters with preventative measures.

I sat down took my left shoe and sock off and found the foot of a 90 year old. Lovely pale white shriveled up skin, all wrinkly and waterlogged. I grabbed a gob of Bag Balm and coated my foot, threw the sock back on and then the shoe. I drank about 12oz of juice that I’d had my crew bring then got up out of the chair.  I put my jacket back on then my pack. Something felt wrong, and then I realized I made the same mistake again with the order of things. Today the pack needed to be under the jacket! I quickly regrouped and grabbed the 6 inch turkey, bacon and avocado Subway sandwich that I had my crew buy for me.

It was somewhere around this time that I saw Scotch Man! He along with Half Iron Woman, the Doc and my fiance Queen Doom were my crew. Up until 3 pm the day before the race I thought Scotch man was going to be AWOL. 48 hours before the race he was at work and a piece of wood exploded and a sliver went into his eye! He spent 9 hours in the emergency room then boarded a train from LA to meet the rest of my crew in Reno. That is some serious dedication and it really fired me up. I would use his pain as a motivator each time I started to feel sorry for myself.....if Scotch Man could hang with wood in his eye, I can certainly keep moving forward.

Unfortunately this news came with a drawback; I was so excited I forgot to do some things. I left with sandwich in hand and made my way out of the aid station. I waived to my crew turned around and took off. I got about a half mile up the road and totally freaked out. Quite a few swear words came flying out of my mouth as I realized what I'd forgotten to do. Go to the bathroom and....wait for it......get more toilet paper from my crew. Dunce move of the day right there folks. I would not see them for 25 more miles and the toughest, gnarliest part of the course was ahead of me. I also forgot lube! Once again I had to do some damage control, I did not need to go at that moment but if I did, I was plumb out of luck. We had descended to a point where only pine trees lived, no more perfect little plants like I had found before. I decided to be on the lookout and just make my way as best I could. Fortunately like I was able to do all day, I put it out of my mind.

I had roughly 12 miles of solid downhill in front of me and I made the decision to keep on with the laxed pace. I tried to run 10-12 minute miles and made sure to drink and eat as much as possible. After a mile or so I started catching people, I paid no attention to it until we reached the fire roads. At that point I saw tons of runners and I was passing them in bunches. I looked at my watch; nope I'm not going any faster, so they must be going slower.

Millers Defeat (34.4 miles) 1:51 pm

I hit the M.D. aid station up 56 minutes on my pace sheet, I only stopped long enough for two cups of electrolyte drink and a cup of soup. I passed 5 people in this aid station. It was at this time I started to realize I'd never felt this good after 35 miles before. Could I really be in that much better shape than last year? No, I thought, I must be pacing better. I decided if it was working and I was gaining on my splits don't try to fix what is not broken. I left the aid station ready to roll; I took the left hand turn to the single track and started really getting into a groove. I turned my iPod on for the first time and put one ear bud in.

I had a secret weapon, I had roughly 6 hours of music that I have a deep connection with. I have two friends who go to Burning Man with me that are DJ's (DJ Izak Engel and Liquid Neon). Listening to their music takes the pain away. I can not explain it, it just makes me happy and hours go by like it’s only a split second. I'm instantly transported to the Playa and thoughts of dancing, art, and dust fill my head.

Dusty Corners (38 miles) 2:39 pm

With the constant beat of electronic dance music in my ear I flew into the next aid station at Dusty Corners 50 minutes up. I stayed an extra minute or two there because they all were asking me if I was hot. I was so far out of it (thanks iPod), I had not realized it was now sunny and warm. I'd probably run for half an hour all bundled up. I thought it would be good to really hit the hydration given the circumstances.

I left the aid station going towards pucker point. This was ironic since the second I passed that vista, puckering would be all I was doing for the next 4 miles. Yep that costly TP mistake was now back to haunt me. I was not sure if the next aid station would have any supplies but hoped they might have a porta-potty. It's out in the middle of nowhere and I thought maybe the volunteers would need something to go in. I had to slow down on this section and I passed at least 2 other guys who were taking care of their business. It seemed odd and inappropriate to pull over and ask them for supplies during their private moment, so I just meandered on to the next aid station.

Last Chance (43.3 miles) 3:49 pm

The toughest section of the run, while you are not going to make your race here, you can end it in a hurry!

I entered Last Chance 43 minutes up on my splits. I had to really slow down given my issues and when I looked to the left of the aid station I saw a potty. YES! I exclaimed loudly as I ran past all the food. "WAIT!", I heard behind me, "you have to be weighed". Give me a second; this is an emergency I shouted. I threw my pack, jacket and long sleeve on the ground outside and jumped into the blue box of awesomeness. Never in my life have I been so excited to see a stinky hot mobile john. You would think from the way I reacted I just won the lottery. A couple minutes later all things were once again right with my world. I suspected the worst was now behind me (excuse the pun). I went over to the weigh station and like that 190.2. Back on track! It really was the rain.

One of the best things about Western States are the aid stations, the only thing better than the food they serve are the people serving you. I've been on that side of the race before and for a volunteer, hearing a runner thank you is something special. I tried at each aid station to bring a little joy into the day of whoever was helping me by thanking them. I grabbed what amounted to 2 full grilled cheese sandwiches for the road, expressed my deepest gratitude and got the hell out of there. I was now only about 30 minutes up on my splits due to my stop and I still had to deal with the toughest 12 miles of the entire race. I'd have to descend a couple thousand feet in 4 miles then make the huge climb up to Devils Thumb.

I knew this part of the course well; I'd spent many hours this year learning every turn, rock and stream crossing to cool down at. I knew my downhill legs were good, but my slow pace while descending was working so well for me, I once again chose not to push it. I figured there might be a chance that my climbing would still be above par and maybe I could make up some time on the hills. Even if I did not, I had a half hour in the bag. Any energy saved now would pay huge dividends around mile 80 when it gets flat and running is a must.

I set off to Devils Thumb feeling great, 45 miles into the race and I still felt like I'd only run 20. I finally hit the bottom of the canyon which is the start of the Devils Thumb climb. I started getting nervous; I've done this climb many times but never with 46 miles in my legs. As is customary with these races one mile you feel like a champ and the next like a chump. I hoped it would be a good climb, but from the start, my quads felt tight and my breathing was forced. I started to think the "easy times" were over and my fears of the long 9 hour slog from TRT started to penetrate my head. I was mentally sabotaging myself and I had no idea of how to stop it.

Squaw Valley to Robinson Flat

(The above video was shot by one of my training partners, this was my last run before the race, this is the first 30 miles of the Western States course. The same 30 talked about in this post.....I would get no sun on race day. All pictures were taken prior to race day) 


Dead Last! I'm not sure I've ever been dead last in a running race before. Back of the pack sure, but the very last runner? Don't think so. Determined to let that fact fall to the ground like the droplets of water that were forming on my jacket, I pressed my chin into my chest and made a climbing effort equal to what was needed to catch up. I had a plan and I was going to run my plan.

By the time we reached the mid point of the climb up Squaw I was neck and neck with the first person to ever complete the run in 1974, a guy named Gordy. I was roasting and took off my jacket. Huge mistake, within a minute I was cold, and being lazy I decided to put it on over my pack rather than deal with taking that off again. This turned out to be a good thing, once the jacket was zipped up I could position the water tube from my pack right next to my mouth and it would not move because of the jackets zipper. The tube poked my face as I ran and reminded me to drink. I need to come up with an invention for this on hot days. Hands free drinking!

Water fell from the sky in many forms at this point, hail, rain, and this snowy-hail like substance that pelted the skin. Winds had picked up to probably 20-50mph gusts and I knew from being on this mountain so much, that it would only get worse until we reached 2 miles off the back side. There would be trees at that point and they would give us some shelter. 

Escarpment (3 miles) Time unknown.

Just to the left of that ski lift is the Escarpment Aid Station, much lower on the hill than I expected.

I saw a sign that said Escarpment .2 miles. Wait, I am over a mile from the top, what is going on? I looked at my pacer sheet, then at my watch. I then realized I made the poor assumption of thinking this first aid station in the race was at the top of the mountain. It is not, it sits just above the old Nastar starting hut.  Once past the aid station we climb up a very steep (40% grade at least) but short climb to another service road that takes us up and over the mountain. I crested the top of Squaw at 6:13, a mere 2 minutes before my pace sheet said I should. This is great I now have banked 2 minutes to squat in the woods. Yep by this time, I was getting that grumble down under that only a stop in the woods can fix. Knowing the trail, I knew the perfect spot to take a private break was only 2 miles away. I could get there at this pace in about 24 minutes. I clamped my cheeks tighter than a bear trap and hoped nobody made me laugh and that I would not trip, as I knew either would result an unwanted consequence.

I felt so bad for the people in shorts and tank tops, they looked chilled to the bone. I did have to wonder if they went to the runners meeting the day before, they warned us it would be 34 degrees. Of course in that same vein, I knew the temps and still decided to bring so many gummy worms...know what happens at 34 degrees to gummy worms? Gummy bricks hard as ice. Now I'm stuck with only gels until things warm up. I was running next to a guy from South Carolina, he was in a tank top and looked frozen solid. All he could do was worry about going down the switchbacks we would face some 40 miles from our current position. I said "you are this cold and it's the switchbacks that are worrying you?" He said he never got a chance to train on downhills this year. I cringed when he said this and offered up the only advice I could. "Walk as much as you need, and start slowing down way before each turn on the switchbacks. Throwing the brakes on just before a turn to gain a couple extra seconds is what kills your quads". 

I made my way up the little stream we had to ascend and saw my rainy cold oasis in the woods. A perfect outcropping of three trees where I could do my business, be discrete and still keep track of the number of people who were passing me (there I go again thinking about placing). I made my way off course a couple hundred feet, took off my pack grabbed my toilet paper baggy, dug a hole with my heel and dropped my shorts. The worst scenario I could imagine would follow:

1. I had diarrhea...ooof not good.

2. I had been using the same zip lock for TP for a while and it had a hole in it. TP + water = giant mess in a bag. Over half the sheets I brought (more than enough for 2 stops) were ruined and the rest of them were not going to clean a whole bunch.

3. All that was around me were pine needles, bark, branches and this weird looking plant.

What to do? Then I remembered that my pacer Goldie had shown me on a training run just weeks earlier a plant that was good for this scenario. Damn It! Why did I not pay more attention, did it look like this one? What if this is some sort of man eating plant fueled by feces or a weird kind of poison ivy or oak that only grows in the alpine regions. DOH! I looked at my watch 5 minutes had gone by, time to make a decision. I decided the plant looked close enough so I used it then used salvageable parts of the TP I had brought. By the time I got back on the trail I'd lost some 20-30 places and almost 10 minutes. "Remember to get more TP from the crew in 23 miles" I thought to myself.

Back on the road and after a mile I realized the TP did more harm than good. However, there was nothing I could do about it, I'd address the issue at mile 30, the first time I knew there would be a real bathroom and my crew to give me the supplies I needed. Until then I would try to alleviate the problem by adding bag balm or whatever lube I could find as often as possible to keep the friction down. This is not an issue I told myself.

Lyon Ridge (10.5 miles) at 7:41am 

Lyon Ridge sits right here.

I got to Lyon ridge a mere 4 minutes ahead of schedule. Perfect! I'm 10 miles in and I avoided the mad dash that usually happens to me. I noticed ahead of me another brightly colored figure whose tattoos and vibrant personality are well known in the Ultra world. I always see her with pink on and today was no different; her hair was neon pink as well. I knew her previous times on this course so I decided I would stay just behind her and let her pace me...though she would not know it.

I made my way out of Lyon ridge and started in up the hill. It was now blowing hard and raining harder. I started thinking about my crew, they had no idea about the weather. I felt bad they would be standing around all day in the rain freezing because I told them it was going to be hot. Hopefully they brought clothes to be comfortable in.

Red Star Ridge (16 miles) 9:05 AM

Red Star Ridge-home of the best weenies....ever!

I followed the ultra vet for about 6 miles to the next aid station Red Star Ridge, I had gained 6 minutes from the last 5.5 miles and was now 10 minutes up on my pace chart. I entered the aid station and the excitement from all the workers was a real treat. I walked over to the table with food on it and decided on a PB&J 1/2 sandwich. I shoved it in my mouth and started to walk away when I saw the most delectable looking little weenies. I had one, oh the salty goodness. These must have come from heaven. At that moment I took my toothpick and stabbed 4 or 5 of those suckers and put them all in my mouth....oh holy heck they were hot. I started fanning my mouth and looked for some liquid to put in it. I grabbed the nearest cup and tossed it in....mmmmmm nothing like crock pot weenies and Gatorade! I bid the workers a farewell and thanked them for their awesomeness.

Back on the trail I hooked up with a guy from somewhere in California. He had run the race a couple of times and was commenting my pacing. He said I looked great and really had things dialed in. We talked for a bit about races, training and running in general. I decided I would follow him to the next aid station since I had passed the neon pink gal in the last aid station. I would later find out she had to drop from the race a couple miles after that. By this point a couple of other runners had joined us to create a train of 6. We would run together all the way to the next aid stop 7.8 miles away.

Duncan Canyon (23.8 miles) 10:56 AM

A mad house on race day, Duncan Canyon has some great views.

Duncan Canyon is a cool place you have to go down this short little hill and it pops you out into the middle of absolute madness, or so it seems from the first time runner perspective. I made my way into the aid station when all of the sudden I hear this voice from behind say "what's under the hat". I took my hat of and did a little spin in the middle of the aid station, by now enough people asked about the hair that I just kept saying it's a cougar with some cheetah spots thrown in for speed. I walked over to the aid stop and asked for some non caffeinated gels, they had none. This was another mistake I made. I had assumed, again wrongly, that they would have an assortment of Gu brand gels at each aid stop. I was surprised to learn they did not, most of these early stops only had one flavor and they were all caffeinated. I was trying to stay off caffeine for the first 62 miles. This was tough for me, any one who has spent some time with me knows I'm addicted to soda and the caffeine in it. Trying to hold off on caffeine for me is like asking a crack addict to stop talking to his dealer. Fortunately I carried enough gels with me to hold me over till Robinson Flat, the next aid stop where I would see my crew. However, the temptation was there, I took 2 caffeinated gels from the table just in case I needed a fix! I spent 6 minutes fueling at D.C. and then got out of there with 6 quarters of PB&J sandwiches.

Leaving Duncan Canyon is difficult. You are literally directed right back the way you just came from. You have to head north for a mile or two before you can continue moving west. I was worried about this section, 2 weeks prior I ran from Squaw to Robinson Flat and this section killed me. I had not been eating and the last 6 miles of the run knocked me out. I was worried the same would happen today. I held back from my normal balls to the wall downhill ways and followed the 6 person train down to the creek that we must pass through. 

I was puzzled by what I saw at the creek, we had been running now for almost 7 hours and no part of the body was dry. Yet, here I am watching 10-12 people tip toe on the rocks sticking out of the stream so they do not get their feet wet. I announced "coming through!" as I ran into the shin deep creek and passed each and every one of them. I knew I had dry shoes and socks in 3 miles and more water was not hurting anything at this point. 

I'm now about to embark on the first of 4 canyon climbs. This canyon is tricky, it just gets steeper as you go. I knew when we hit the switchbacks 1.5 miles from the aid station that things would fall apart for me. They always do on hills. I'm slow, especially when the incline is mild. I have not yet developed a running gear up hills and my hiking leaves a lot to be desired. On this day though, my legs felt great. I began slowly pulling away from the train of 12 I had passed and was now on my own. I would not run with another person for the next 10 hours. I'd see people, but I was passing them. With good legs beneath me, I started hiking hard up the hill. I caught a couple of people and I was realizing that either they were blowing up or I was in better climbing shape than I thought.

1/2 mile.....close but no cigar!

I made my way up the switchbacks and through a meadow to the sign that says Robinson Flat .5 miles. This sign is full of it! Its .8 miles, you may not think that .3 miles is much, after 29.7 miles that is one hell of an error! Fortunately I knew about this already so I adjusted my expectations of when I would see my crew.

Robinson Flat (30 Miles) 12:37 PM 

I entered the corral they had set up for runners to direct them into the weigh station 25 minutes ahead of schedule. In races like this they weigh you to make sure you are keeping up on the fluids. Weighing more or less than 7% of your body weight gets you time in a chair, and you have no choice but to wait until they feel you are ready to leave. I have worried about this to no end. Last year in my only other 100 mile race I started at 194 and would weigh at different times 188 all the way to 212. At that race they are much more lenient than this one with the numbers.

I started to figure out if I would be heavy or light 174 and 202 was the range I had to work with. Should I strip down or add some rocks to the pockets? My blow up at Zion a month earlier and a promise I made to my fiance made me decide to be honest with the scale, so I did nothing. I saw my crew member to the right of the line of runners walking into the aid station. Oh she was a sight for sore eyes, and she had a poncho and tu-tu on! Yes, I thought, they are all going to be fine I do not have to worry about them. I walked up to the scale handed my pack and jacket off and stood still. 203 the guy shouted, what's your start weight?

Damn that is over 7% do I tell him the truth?

Pre-Race to Last Place!

Pre Race 2:30am Saturday June 23

The dreaded buzz from my phone alarm awoke me from a dream about Burning Man. I quickly sat up out of bed and as the fog of sleep started to clear from my brain, I was now realizing why it was pitch dark out.  I would be running for the entire day, night and next morning. I’d be trying to run nearly half way across the state of California, over the Sierra mountain range just 2.5 hours from now. I needed to eat, drink, and prepare my weapons to attack the trail for the day. I also still had to make the short journey from my parent’s house to Squaw Valley. 381 other runners like me, would start the Western States 100 mile Endurance run at the base of the ski resort. Each of us hopeful to end our run in Auburn, California before 11:00 am Sunday morning. 301 runners would eventually reach Auburn in less than 30 hours after the gun went off.

My trail weapons

I made my way up the three flights of stairs to the garage where I had stashed my 2 bagels and creme cheese as well as a liter of orange juice. This would be the last meal I would have where I was not hurried. My dog Zeke had eaten the other 4 bagels the day before and there were some nice teeth marks on the two he left behind. I guess he wanted to carb load with me. I leaned against the refrigerator and thought about the adventure I would have today. I wondered if I had what it would take mentally and physically to run the 100.2 miles (18,000 feet of climbing and 23,000 feet of descending). I wondered if my foot would hold up to the abuse I was about to put on it. I wondered what my body would do after I hit the 43 mile mark. I'd not completed any runs this year farther than 42 miles. I had run 100 miles before in 2011, but that was on the smooth buffed out Tahoe Rim Trail. That run resulted in a massive 9 straight hours of walking between 2am and 11am. That 9 hours is the only regret I have from the race, these are running races I need to be able to run them. I knew if the same resulted today, I would be pulled from the course in the middle of the night. I would not make the segmented cutoffs that are there to ensure runners finish in a timely manner.

Today I was attempting a run on much more difficult, technical terrain. To make matters worse, as I peeked outside I muttered an explicative. It was damp, rainy, cloudy, windy and cold. This race is known for the heat, which I am not well suited for. For the last month I had spent nearly every run at the hottest part of the day in a long sleeve shirt. I spent every day of the commute to work (over an hour each way) in a long sleeve shirt and a towel covering my legs with my cars heater blasting me on high. I was attempting to train my body to be acclimated to the heat I would face on this day. This new set of circumstances was actually a blessing in disguise; I'm all good in the cold. However, I had not done a whole lot of running in the rain and wind since I was injured for most of the winter.

I had decided the week previous that I would make a concerted effort to find the good in the circumstances I was given on this journey rather than dwell on why it was not the perfect scenario. The good in this, I figured, was the lack of heat and the fact I am quite comfortable running in the cold. My days spent in a downhill suit (basically a Lycra suit with a tad bit of padding) skiing prepared me for any amount of cold, damp and uncomfortable this day would bring. I'll take freezing over hot any day. I quickly made my way to my packed bags and started rummaging for the zip lock bag that carried a long sleeve technical (wicking) shirt, my Salomon wind breaker and a pair of summer gloves. I would find out later, this would be the second coldest day in the history of the race.

Taking those items weighed on me a bit, literally but also figuratively. True, they are not heavy, but I had just spent the previous 24 hours taking every unnecessary item out of my race day item list. Generally I take everything except the kitchen sink on a run. I usually have a knife, cell phone, wallet, keys, assortment of sugars like gels, candy, and gummy bears, some solid food at least 75-100oz of water, toilet paper, extra buff and beanie etc…. I had finally decided, begrudgingly at the request of my pacer, actually I should say my savior, to only bring my light pack with 6 gels, 24 gummy worms (600 calories worth) and 75oz of water and toilet paper. I also feared I needed to shed every ounce of weight to make the 30 hour time limit. I made my peace with this decision and of course the minute I get accustomed to it, I’m thrown a curve ball with this rain. Now I’d have to be packed for the cold. So much for going ultra light!

Around 3am the rest of the people in the house started arriving upstairs all of them dressed in the crew shirts that I had made. I talked to my dad for a couple of minutes before I realized it was time to head off and get to Squaw to pick up my bib. It felt like old times being with my dad before the race. He was always there front and center for all my adventures when I was young. There was a moment in talking with him that I think I could see how proud he was of me in his eyes, we do not talk about such things, but the look said everything I needed to hear. I could tell he was amped for me and as is typical with this side of my family both he and my step mom were leaving shortly after the start to go win a sniper shooting match. My family to say the least, is active. The list of sporting success would boggle the mind, I just hoped, today, I could live up to those standards. I had wanted to have my mom out for this as well but things did not work out as I had planned. That's another story all together! I had talked to my mom the day before and told her I just overnight-ed a shirt to her. She wore it the entire time I was on the course. If there is a next time for this race, I'm going to make sure she is healthy enough to be there.

My fiancé and I hopped into the vehicle we have dubbed the Yeti. This would be my crews transportation vehicle as they made their way to me, deep in the hills of California. As is customary with this vehicle, and the big events she transports us too, it was all decked out with paint letting everyone on the road know we were on an epic journey.

Yeti.....

I arrived at Squaw Valley at 3:50 am. I have been to this resort hundreds of times but never so early and never on a summer morning. Thoughts of my skiing days whirled through my head, there would be no chair lifts for me on this day. We parked and made our way to the lodge. This was so familiar, when I skied; we made the same trek to the same lodge. Heck I was even sitting at the same table I’d sat at half my life ago before ski races.

I’d been relatively even keel with my nerves up to this point. Once I checked in I got a little baggy with my bib and microchip that goes around my ankle, which is when my nerves and blood pressure went through the roof.

Bib on!

This was happening; I was on the precipice of finally starting the race. I had thought about this in secret for well over a decade, once I finally muttered out loud my intentions to run in it, my thoughts and actions have been dominated by it for the last 3 years. As I pinned that bib on my left leg I wondered if I would be the same person in 31 hours. I figured if successful I would finally feel proud of myself, but feared as has happened so many times in the past, that I might have placed too much emphasis on the final outcome. The old me would consider anything but a finish a colossal failure, I would not take into account the journey, the fact so few could even make it to the start, or even the circumstances that I had to face just to get here this year. I hoped that I would find maturity along the course where I could appreciate all the good that has come from this journey and not dwell on an unfortunate outcome, should that be the case.

Once I had my bib on I started to realize I may need to deal with a bathroom stop on the mountain. Even with careful planning I was starting to get the feeling that yesterdays food would not evacuate from my body before the start. I was prepared for this circumstance but I was not happy I’d have to deal with it. I had carefully planned every eating session for the last week, right down to the minute of the day I took in food. I should have needed to go by now, but instead I sat on the toilet twiddling my thumbs praying to the poop gods! They would answer me many times over; unfortunately those communications would come at mile 6, 38, 42, and 49.

I got up threw my shorts back on and hoped that this would be the only thing for the next 30 hours I was unsuccessful at. I made my way back to my parents and fiancé with 10 minutes to the start. A friend of mine had made the trip up from Reno to surprise me. He showed up just as we were going to head out, I was shocked to see him. He was the one who first heard the words: “I want to run the Western States 100” come out of my mouth back in 2009. It was just the jolt I needed before the journey began.

Nearly 400 nervous runners stood on the deck of the lodge watching a clock countdown. I could see at the head of the pack just under the start line so many famous runners; it hit me at that point. I was running the same course as them, and in the same race! What the hell was I doing here; I was no where near the runner they were. I looked back toward the end of the line and pretty much thought the same thing about those runners. I had my first mental battle before the gun even went off. I saw my training partners lined up and thought they looked like they belong. I still did not think I deserved to be here. That was the only conclusion I could come to just minutes before the start, why else would I consider all 380 other runners as studs and me just some pitiful fool who lucked into this situation. Heck I had to be given my entry. I only trained less than three months for this, my training partners had to stop and wait for me so many times on long runs. I’m not prepared for this! These were foolish thoughts and I immediately had to step back and tell myself I did in fact deserve to be here and I would perform accordingly. I would revisit this insecurity many times over the next day.

Waiting for the gun

I typically have issues with going out fast at the start of the races and dying in the latter parts. I was determined today that I would not let that happen. My plan was to start at the back. I wanted to make sure that by the time we got to the single-track trail, 3.5 miles in,  I was in the back of the pack. This would ensure that I could not go out fast, because it was near impossible to pass anyone for about 3 miles once on the back side of the ski resort. My overall plan was to take it easy for the first 62 miles, get with my pacer and see where we were at. Make a plan to get to the river crossing (78 miles) and hammer the last 22 miles as best we could. It was important to not have significant walk breaks, I needed to keep moving swiftly at all times.

5AM Saturday June 23 mile 0.0 Squaw Valley

I lined up, still with my clan of 4 supporters, nearly last. The clock hit 10 seconds to go and the runners, crew members and crowd began the countdown from 10. The clock hit zero and a shotgun went off. We now had 30 hours to make our way to Auburn Ca.

And GO!

I had noticed something on a run 2 weeks earlier with my mentor. He would kiss his hand and slap it against rocks as we ran. I never talked to him about it, but I figured the race is so important to him and so close to his heart that he must do it as a form of appreciation. I figured I needed all the help I could get. If I could get some good mojo by making out with the course I was just the guy to do that. Be good to the course and it will be good to you type of thing. I walked up to the starting line kneeled down, kissed my hand and slapped it at the ground, then I did the same as I jumped up to touch the starting timer which already read 30 seconds.

And they are off!

I started walking with the urgency of a snail. Within a minute I was ahead of maybe 3 people and behind the rest of the field. Along the road they call the Mountain Run, I would see many familiar faces. I stopped walking to take time to hug each and every one of them. I was intent on enjoying every part of this adventure. Within a quarter of a mile I had hugged my last friend. I made it one more switchback and I took another 10-15 seconds to look at the valley beneath me, I could see a steady stream of red on the road from all the crews leaving the resort. What I did not see, shocked me a bit….RUNNERS!

I turned back around looked a couple hundred feet up the hill and thought, great, I’m less than .5% through the race and I’m already in last place. I had to once again remind myself (as was the case the entire day) that placing was not important, clock time was. I had roughly 45 minutes to get to the top of Squaw or I’d be off pace and that is all that mattered. If I held true to my pace chart I would finish the race in 29.5 hours.

My Pace sheet, just need to stay ahead of "Goal Time".